


Bread and Honey

by keepitdreamin



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Baking, Beorn's House, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:43:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21985315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keepitdreamin/pseuds/keepitdreamin
Summary: “Bread,” he says dumbfounded, taking in the hunks of fresh, sweet smelling bread and the pot of honey beside it all. His mouth waters for what might actually be the first time this journey and suddenly he’s ravenous.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 5
Kudos: 170





	Bread and Honey

**Author's Note:**

> Way back in July, I won a giveway from the _remarkable_ Rutobuka who illustrated this scene.  
> [See it here on Tumblr!](https://rutobuka2.tumblr.com/post/186074968864/%22rel=%22nofollow%22)  
> 
> 
> This was supposed to be part of a longer courting fic but I'm having trouble with that and I wanted to post at least One thing this year so I'm posting it solo.

“Eat this.”

“What?” Thorin asks, startled to find that somehow Bilbo had managed to come up and set a large wooden tray beside him without him noticing. After Balin and Óin had forcibly ejected him from the house with claims that fresh air and sunshine would do him better than sitting by the fire and strategizing with Dwalin, he’d wandered for a bit until he found a bench out back of Beorn’s house, hidden by some hedges and with a nice view of the fields. He’d thought he’d been hidden enough to avoid the rest of the company, but somehow still the burglar had found him.

“Who are you _Óin?_ ” Bilbo says with an irritated sniff. “I said _eat_ you daft dwarf. Your body needs to heal and it’s not going to do that with the _one_ meal you had yesterday.” Bilbo visibly shudders, seemingly horrified at the very notion.

“I,” Thorin says, trying to decide whether or not he should be offended--he is a _king_ after all, albeit one without a throne; but on the other hand, Bilbo is speaking to him so informally like friends might, like how he does with the rest of the company and that Thorin has not once felt left out or jealous of, not once, no sir, _stop laughing Dwalin_ \--but then he’s distracted by the frankly delicious smell wafting up from the tray. “Bread,” he says dumbfounded, taking in the hunks of fresh, sweet smelling bread and the pot of honey beside it all. His mouth waters for what might actually be the first time this journey and suddenly he’s _ravenous_.

“Yes, _do_ keep up Thorin,” Bilbo says, making himself comfortable on the bench, the tray between them. “I made it just this morning and was going to save it for dinner, but _then_ I learn that you haven’t eaten at _all_ since dinner yesterday and really that cannot do.” He says all of this while slathering a piece with liberal amounts of honey before waving it under Thorin’s nose, dangerously close to dripping on his beard. Thorin inhales deeply; it smells _divine_ and he doesn’t have to be bossed around any more to take the proffered piece and begin eating.

Bilbo is obviously pleased by this and gets his own piece while continuing to chatter on. “Ideally, we’d be having this with tea anyway, but while his food stores are impressive, Beorn’s taste in teas is… unfortunate--” He says ‘unfortunate’ like it’s the most disgusting thing in the world and idly Thorin wonders what kinds of tea Bilbo, who just two weeks ago had spent a full day waxing poetically about all kinds of tea, would turn his nose up at. It must be truly atrocious. “--and I haven’t had the chance to explore and find anything suitable myself. But his gardens seem to have a little bit of everything, so I’m sure I can find chamomile, maybe some mint and jasmine.”

Thorin listens to Bilbo ramble about the kinds of tea he wants to make which quickly turns to what _food_ he wants to make while he reaches for another bit of bread. It is remarkably good and the sweet taste, the warm sunshine, and the soothing tone of the hobbit next to him makes Thorin relax _truly_ for the first time in… well, he can’t quite recall the last time he was this peaceful. There are no goblins or orcs or wargs coming for them--the ones Beorn hasn’t already torn into wouldn’t dare come anywhere near this place. His company is safe, warm, dry and fed, and, aside from himself, they’re hardly even injured.

* * *

He’s not quite sure what happens next. One moment he’s half listening as Bilbo tells a story of a particularly forgetful family member, a wedding cake and an opportunistic crow, and the next he’s opening his eyes to see the sun grazing the tree line. 

He blinks and is startled when a voice beside him says, “Awake now are we?” He turns to see Bilbo, still in the same comfortable position beside him, except with the addition of a pipe (an intricately carved stone one, clearly one of Balin’s), and smiling contentedly at the horizon. 

“Good, it’s almost time for dinner and if we get there late, those terrors you call nephews won’t leave us a bit.” He stands, stretches, and waits for Thorin to pull himself up before gathering the tray and honeypot. They walk in companionable silence for a bit; Thorin is slower than he’d like with his injuries, but Bilbo simply adjusts his own pace to match his. 

“Thank you,” Thorin says quietly when they’re about to round the hedges.

Bilbo hums. “You wouldn’t need to thank me if you’d just look after yourself like you should.” His tone isn’t harsh, but Thorin feels properly admonished anyway. A part of him had known he was being unreasonable, but the other, larger part had been unsettled and on edge, unused to the apparent comfort and safety of this place.

“Perhaps, and yet I offer my gratitude, Master Baggins, and will continue to as long as you offer your kindness.” He pauses, then adds with a smile, “And your bread.”

Thorin is pleased to note that Bilbo flushes rather prettily on his cheeks and at the tips of his ears and mutters something in the Hobbitish language. They’ve heard very little of the language on the journey. The first time Fíli and Kíli had truly startled him, he’d yelled at them in it before remembering himself, and though they’ve tried to wheedle it out of him since then, he’s kept mum. Hobbits are apparently even more secretive of their tongue than dwarves, which is quite an impressive feat. He hopes he’ll be able to entice any more out of him before the journey’s end.

“Flatterer,” Bilbo finally says, ears still pink. They’re within sight of the house now, and Fíli, who’s doing something probably unwise on top of a barrel, waves at them so enthusiastically that he loses his balance and falls to the uproarious laughter of the handful of others watching. Thorin rolls his eyes but can’t help the soft smile at his nephew’s antics. It’s good, seeing them happy and carefree again, even if it can only last for a moment.

He looks back to his companion when he hears him clear his throat and catches his eyes for a moment before Bilbo looks away quickly, his cheeks stained even darker. “I’ll make some more loaves tomorrow,” he says decisively and it’s kind of like a promise… But before Thorin can respond, they’re set upon by Kíli and Ori who want to talk about… well something. Thorin’s quite lost and they’re talking so enthusiastically he can’t get a question in edgewise. He does spot the bright tuft of Bilbo’s hair as he disappears into Beorn’s, having somehow ducked away without notice.


End file.
